War of the Eagles (12 page)

“The carrots are all cut up. What should I do next, ma'am?” Tadashi asked my mother.

She eyed his finished pile and then looked at the one I was working on, still only half done.

“Hmmmm … it looks like I didn't need a second helper … just the right first helper.”

Tadi broke into a big grin and I shot them both a dirty look.

“Start taking the piles of plates off the counter and set them out in the mess hall.”

“Yes, Ma'am,” Tadashi answered. He grabbed a stack and pushed through the door to exit the kitchen.

“You could learn from him, Jedidiah.”

“How to cut up carrots?”

“No, manners. Tadashi is polite.”

“He's not polite, he's Japanese. It just comes natural to them,” I countered.

“Don't know about that, but I do know it comes more natural than cutting carrots does to you. Here, give me the knife and I'll finish up while you help Tadashi get things set up in the mess. Okay?”

“Sounds good to me.”

I dropped the knife into the bowl of carrots and handed it to her. I grabbed another stack of plates and headed out of the kitchen. Tadi was almost finished putting out the plates he'd brought in.

“Come and give me a hand with these, will ya,” I called out.

Tadashi put down the last of his plates and joined me.

“I'll hold the stack and you put the plates on the table.”

“Okay.”

“And one more thing. Could you stop being so po–lite?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Polite, polite. Quit being so polite … it's making me look bad. Okay?”

“Yes … sir,” he chuckled.

I smiled. “That's more like it.”

“I just want to make a good impression. Don't want to get fired my first day on the job.”

“What do you think about working here?”

“I like it. Money's good and the company is, you know, okay.”

“Okay! Just okay? If I wanted to be given a hard time, I would have asked Toshio to work with me!”

“Hah! I can't picture Toshio wearing a Canadian army jacket.”

“What's wrong with the jacket?”

“Nothing. I just think the only uniform he'd wear would be from the Japanese Imperial Army.”

“He wants to be in the Japanese army?”

“Well, probably not. It's just he's always talking about how the Japanese army is doing in China. He practically memorizes the stories in the Japanese newspapers.”

“You mean newspapers come all the way from Japan to your village?” I asked in amazement.

“Some of the old people still do get newspapers shipped from Japan. It takes months for those to ar–rive. But I mean the Japanese newspaper published in Vancouver. It comes out once a week and takes another week or so to come this far north.”

“I don't understand why people would come all this way, thousands of miles from Japan, to still be so inter–ested in what's going on back there.”

“People have relatives in Japan. Besides, like my father says, ‘Just because someone moves their body doesn't mean they move their heart.'”

“Are there many people like that … you know … whose hearts are still in Japan?”

“Mostly the people born in Japan.”

“Your father was born in Japan. How does he feel?”

“He says he didn't travel halfway around the world to stay in the same place. That's why he became a Ca–nadian citizen.”

“Just like my father. He moved here from England to become a citizen.”

We set down the last of the plates. “Now we have to fix up the big urns to make coffee. Come on and I'll show you how.” He watched as I took off the tops, filled them with water and measured out the coffee.

“Think you can do that?” I asked.

“Not too tricky. You know it's not the same.”

“What's not the same?”

“Your father and my father becoming Canadian.”

“What do you mean?”

“For one thing your father enlisted and is fighting in the war.”

“Yeah?” I questioned.

“My father couldn't do that if he wanted. They don't let people of Japanese descent enlist in the army.”

“You're kidding, aren't you?”

“Nope. If you're Japanese you can't join the army. I may be the only Japanese in all of Canada who is wear–ing one of these jackets.”

“But that doesn't make any sense,” I argued.

“Of course, it doesn't. It's just that …”

Tadashi stopped talking as we heard the outside door to the mess open. We both turned around. Major Brown came into the room followed by a group of his officers. Included in the group was Captain Stevenson, the second-in-command on the base. I eyed Stevenson nervously. I didn't like him. As an officer he was sup–posed to order people around. But he was always making sarcastic little comments. He didn't treat the men very well and it wasn't just me who didn't like him. He figured because he outranked people he was better than them. Smitty told me the army was full of people like that.

Major Brown looked over at us and gave a quick nod of his head. The group sat down at a table in the corner.

“You see what my mother wants you to do now, and I'll go and see what I can get the officers,” I whispered to Tadashi. He nodded and walked to the kitchen. I walked over and stopped at the end of the table. The major was seated with his back to me. Captain Stevenson was facing me. He looked up.

“Coffee, black and hot and plenty of it,” he barked.

“Yes, sir,” I answered and spun around on my heels.

“Jed!”

I stopped and turned back. The major had swiveled around in his seat.

“Yes, sir?”

“We have some special guests tonight. I was wonder–ing if there's any chance of some rabbit pie?”

“Not from me. I'm here all afternoon, but my two cousins went out hunting first thing this morning. They should have no trouble bringing back enough game.”

“Excellent! I'm not surprised to see your mother arrange things so quickly.” He turned and cast a disap–proving gaze at Captain Stevenson. “If only the rest of my orders were followed so promptly.”

Captain Stevenson looked down at the table.

“I'll get the coffee now, sir.”

I turned away before the smile came to my face. I liked to see Stevenson get into trouble, but didn't want anybody to see I liked it. I hurried into the kitchen.

“Tadi, can you help me bring out some coffee?” I asked.

“Sure.”

I handed him a tray and piled on cups. I grabbed the coffee pot and we headed through the door. The men were engaged in a spirited dialogue as we approached.

I set down the coffee pot and then took the cups off the tray, putting them in front of each officer.

“This is the perfect time to introduce our newest mess assistant,” Major Brown said. “This is Tadashi Fukushima. He is a close friend of Jed's.”

“But he's Japanese!” Captain Stevenson exclaimed.

“I think we're all aware of that,” Major Brown calmly replied.

“Although more correctly he's Japanese-Canadian. How long has your family been in Canada now, Tadashi?”

“About thirty years, sir.”

“And as I recall you mentioning, your father's a naturalized Canadian.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Interesting. I've only emigrated to Canada twenty years ago myself, so I believe that would make him more Canadian than …”

The door burst open. “Major Brown, sir!” called a sol–dier. “The call you were waiting for is on the line, sir.”

“I'll be right there!” he answered. “Gentlemen, please have your coffee and I'll be back promptly.” He got up and hurried out the door.

I started to pour the coffee.

“I would hope you have your registration card with you,” Captain Stevenson said to Tadashi.

“No, sir … I don't have a card.”

“You don't have a card! The law is quite clear that all Japanese need to be registered and carry their card with them at all times!”

“I'm only fourteen. I don't have to be registered.”

“Oh … oh … I thought you were sixteen years old … I have trouble telling the age of you people,” Captain Stevenson sputtered. “You two can leave. If we need anything more, we'll call.”

I put down the coffee pot on the corner of the table and we hurried away.

“Nice guy, hey?” I said as we entered the kitchen.

“Captain Stevenson being difficult?” my mother questioned.

“About the same as usual. What was he talking about?

What's all this business about registration cards?”

“All Japanese over sixteen years old, even people born in this country, had to register with the RCMP,” said my mother. They were all given little registration cards they carry with them at all times.”

“You know about this?” I questioned.

“I'm surprised you didn't know, Jed,” she replied.

“It's pretty common knowledge.”

“But why would they register the Japanese?”

“In case there's a war with Japan,” Tadashi answered.

“Enough of this. Upsets me just to hear about it. You two better stop wasting time talking if you expect to get to Tadi's for supper tonight. Is it some sort of special meal or something?”

“Yes, ma'am. It's my grandmother's birthday celebra–tion.”“Well hurry up and finish setting up for supper and then you can be on your way.”

“No problem, we'll be finished in plenty of time,”

I answered.

“And don't forget about the eagle. You have to feed him and change its water.”

“Already done,” I replied smugly. “First thing when I got here.”

“I should've known. I wish you'd take school as seri– ous as you take caring for that eagle.”

“I take school seriously enough. Besides, Eddy needs me.”

“Eddy? What kind of fool name is that for an eagle?” my mother asked.

“Seems all right to me. The men gave it a name, that's all.”

“Bad enough keeping it all tied up like that. Least they could do was give it a proper name,” she insisted.

“What did you have in mind?”

“I don't know. A Tsimshian name. Something the eagle would like.”

Tadashi shot me a questioning look. My mother caught his expression and he looked away in embar–rassment.“The Tsimshian think that our people can become eagles after they die,” I explained to Tadashi.

“And don't you go making any fun of things you don't understand, Jedidiah Blackburn.”

I knew better than to argue with her, or even be a wise guy when she addressed me by my full name.

“You just better make sure that if I ever get hurt you treat me as well as you treat that eagle. Understand?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Good! Now get back to work … the both of you!”

Tadashi had been quieter than usual the whole rest of the afternoon and all along the walk to his village.

“Hard day's work, eh?” I questioned.

“Not too hard.”

“I thought you were all worn out.”

“What makes you think that?” he asked.

“You seem too tired to talk.”

“Not tired. Just bothered.”

“Bothered about what?”

“What do you think?” Tadashi asked. There was just a hint of anger in his voice. He stared straight ahead up the trail and seemed to pick up the pace a bit.

I had to think for a few seconds before it came back to me. “Don't let Stevenson get to you. He's a jerk with everybody.”

“Maybe, but it's not just him.”

“Then what?”

“The registration. It isn't right we have those little cards to carry around.”

“I don't know. From what you've told me it isn't a bad idea to have somebody like Toshio registered. He'd give the Japanese the maps to Prince Rupert if he had them,” I chuckled.

“I don't care about Toshio. Maybe he should be watched, but not all of us!” Tadashi's voice was still calm but now he was setting a faster pace.

“But you don't even have a card, right?”

“Yeah, but only because I'm not sixteen.” He was still staring straight ahead, not looking at me. I had to speed up to try and stay even with him.

“So you have to carry around a card, so what? I don't know, but it doesn't seem like that big a deal.”

“You're right … you don't know,” he said angrily. “It is a big deal.”

“The government is just taking precautions because of the war. Don't take it so personal.”

Suddenly he stopped walking and turned to face me.

“How else could I take it? It is personal. Everybody who's Japanese, or whose parents or even their grandparents were Japanese, has to register! It's like we're not humans and we need a piece of paper to go out.

“Come on, Tadi, you're making too much of this.”